In the Field (1914-1915) eBook

I. HOW I WENT TO THE FRONT

The train was creeping along slowly in the soft night
air. Seated on a truss of hay in the horse-box
with my own two horses and that of my orderly, Wattrelot,
I looked out through the gap left by the unclosed
sliding door. How slowly we were going! How
often we stopped! I got impatient as I thought
of the hours we were losing whilst the other fellows
were fighting and reaping all the glory. Station
after station we passed; bridges, level crossings,
tunnels. Everywhere I saw soldiers guarding the
line and the bayonets of the old chassepots glinting
in the starlight. Now and again the train would
suddenly pull up for some mysterious reason.
The three horses, frightened at being brought into
collision with each other, made the van echo to the
thunder of their hoofs as they slipped, stamped, and
recovered their balance. I got up to calm them
with soothing words and caresses. By the light
of the wretched lantern swinging and creaking above
the door I could see their three heads, with pricked
ears and uneasy eyes. They were breathing hard
and could not understand why they had been brought
away from their comfortable stable with its thick litter
of clean straw. They were not thinking about
the war, but they seemed to understand that their
good times were over, that they would have to resign
themselves to all sorts of discomforts, march unceasingly,
pass nights in camps under the pouring rain, keep
their heavy equipment on their backs for many days
together, and not always get food when they were hungry.

Then the train would set off again with a noise of
tightened couplings and creaking waggons. Whilst
I was mechanically looking out at the darkness, dotted
here and there with the coloured lights of the signals
placed along the line, my straying thoughts would wander
to the fields of battle and try to picture the scene
on my arrival at the Front.

It was the 28th of August, nearly a month after the
order had been given for mobilisation. And the
armies had been fighting for some days already.
What had happened? We could only glean part of
the truth from the short official announcements.
We knew there had been hard fighting at Charleroi,
at Dinant, and in the direction of Nancy. But
the result had not been defined. I thought I
could guess, however, that these battles had not been
decisive, but that they had cost both sides dear.
I was tempted to rejoice, fool that I was, to think
that the first great victories would not be won before
I joined my regiment. I had not yet been able
to console myself for the ill-fortune that prevented
me from starting with the squadrons of the first line.
And yet I had to submit to regulations. The colonel
was inflexible, and answered my entreaties by quoting
the inexorable rule: In every cavalry regiment
the sixth lieutenant in order of seniority must stay
at the depot to help the major and the captain of
the 5th squadron. They must assemble, equip,
and train the reserve squadrons of the regiment.